For Our Freedom and Yours
by PointlessArrow
Summary: When a cryptic order sent them to the United Kingdom, no one could have guessed that the trio would embark on an adventure of a lifetime. A historical story starring Błyskawica, Burza, and Grom. (Formerly titled Peking, Peking, Peking).
1. How We Left Gdynia

**A/N:** This was originally going to be another stand-alone snippet for "Days of Glory," but after researching a little more into the Polish Navy's history I kinda became a fan of the ORP destroyer trio. As with "Days of Glory," this is basically an artistic re-imagining of history under the premise that ships have spirits, but they aren't quite ship girls since they're still tied to/can interact with their metal hulls.

Basically, this story will be a collection for any historical retellings I may write where the Polish ship(girls) were involved.

* * *

 _August 24, 1939_

* * *

"How are your relations with Germany?"

"Bad. It's going South by the hour," the balding man replied grimly. "I received word from Lecomte this morning. Apparently the Germans are reaching an agreement with the Soviets on how certain things should be run. Their enmity is at an end."

"From what I have heard that certainly seems to be the case. That would mean that your people would be surrounded by…less than hospitable nations on either side."

"So it would seem. General de Wiart, I would like to ask you a question," he rapped the table between them for emphasis. "In the case of war, can we rely upon the United Kingdom and France to honor the alliance?"

"Yes," de Wiart cleared his throat in agreement. "But England has its own question for-"

"How fast do you think your troops can mobilize, into say, Romania?"

"I do not know," the British general hesitated, "but I can assure you that they will arrive with all due haste. However, I wanted to ask you-"

"Excellent, you give the Polish Republic hope. If Germany were to declare war, say tomorrow, then we could concentrate all of our men to the southeast, create a defensive position along the Romanian border, and then-"

"FORGET THE DAMN ROMANIAN BRIDGEHEAD, EDWARD!" de Wiart thundered, slamming his fists into the table. "What I want to know is if you have given a damn about the Polish Navy."

"The Navy?" Edward Rydz-Śmigły looked at him blankly. "Ah yes, the Navy. It is admittedly a fledgling force, but I have confidence that it can reliably escort supplies into Polish ports. From there the supplies will be funneled into our land forces near Romania. It shall be the deliverance of our defense, alongside the railroads of course."

"Let me get this straight," de Wiart groaned, swiping at his face in frustration. "You think that somehow a handful of destroyers, minelayers, and other auxiliary ships can outrun and outmatch the _Kriegsmarine._ "

"The Grom class is among the most advanced destroyers this world has ever seen," Rydz-Śmigły replied evenly. "We're not expecting a Jutland here, we just need ships capable of slipping in between the gaps, and fortunately for Poland we have several available."

"You don't understand," he gnashed his teeth in frustration. "The Baltic isn't the Atlantic. There's only one way in, and on way out, and that's through the German armada. You are aware that the German Navy now is nothing like the German Navy of ten years ago, yes?"

"I am."

"Do you know that Germany has constructed numerous advanced heavy cruisers, light cruisers, battlecruisers, pocket battleships, and even has aircraft carriers in the works, right?"

"Yes."

"And that I haven't even touched upon their submarine flotillas."

"Your point being?"

"How is the Polish Navy going to withstand a standing naval force that far outstrips its own?"

"I understand now what your concern is, Adrian," Rydz-Śmigły frowned. "You do not care about the plight of Poland, only about whose hands its equipment will end up in. Polish ships will fight in Polish waters, and will sink in Polish waters. That's final."

"You misunderstand my point. Edward, just because I assume that Anglo-French aid will arrive quickly, doesn't mean that it will. You remember how long it took us to penetrate German lines in the Great War. The situation may arise where most, if not all, of Poland will be in enemy hands. If you want the Polish Navy to survive, we must pre-emptively protect it."

"If the Baltic is as you see it a cage, then nowhere is safe. I assume that means they will be operating in English waters."

"They will," de Wiart nodded reluctantly, "but we shall keep them safe."

"Do I have your assurance that they will?" Rydz-Śmigły glanced at him suspiciously.

"No, but you have my confidence. Edward, please…"

Rydz-Śmigły's expression remained unchanging, the man still not entirely convinced of the plan's merits.

"One. I shall send one destroyer division over. But under one condition."

* * *

"It's that blasted Hun again!" Grom groaned as angry German echoed from the radio.

Her younger sister, Błyskawica, took one look at the portable device and shrugged. "With word diarrhea like that, no wonder that man sounds so furious. He must be using so much saliva to spit out such drivel that he's doomed to an eternity in infernal constipation."

"Merde, not the shit jokes again," Burza rubbed her head as if she felt a migraine coming on.

"Oh come on sis', lighten up a little," Wicher winked in encouragement.

"Yeah, let's all lighten up," Gryf rolled her eyes. "While we're at it let's all sing about what wonderful life we have, and pretend that we don't have a trigger-happy neighbor who is just looking for the perfect excuse to bomb us to kingdom come."

"Gee," Błyskawica folded her arms, "did someone put sour grapes in your wine or something?"

"If drinking could solve my problems, I would have emptied the Baltic Sea a long time ago," the minelayer deadpanned.

"Good one!" Wicher giggled, though it rang hollow. Ever since the Memel Incident, the entire Polish Navy had been on edge. It certainly didn't help that Gdynia had a substantial German population who openly pushed for German re-annexation of the semi-autonomous city, or that Germany had stated in all-clear terms that it had its eyes set on reclaiming the Polish port. Something big was about to happen, and they all knew it.

They just didn't expect it take the shape of blond girl pouncing out of the quay beside them.

"Oi, Grom, Błyskawica, you two being facetious little English girls again?" Wilk demanded, glowering at the Anglo-Polish duo.

"No you fool, we're just curing Gryf's classic case of Irishman-stuck-in-arsehole problem!"

"So in other words, being a general nuisance."

"Yes!" Wicher, Burza, and Gryf nodded in agreement.

"No!" Błyskawica and Grom shook their heads furiously.

"Well, you better not. I saw Admiral Unrug with Marshal Rydz-Śmigły earlier this morning, and neither of them looked too happy."

"To be fair-"

"There's more. I overheard them talking about summoning the captains of Grom, Błyskawica, and Burza too."

"What did you do now, sis'?" Wicher smirked.

"Oh, hell no!" Burza protested furiously, making a gagging noise for emphasis. "Why am I lopped together with these… _English_ destroyers?"

"Hey, why are we stuck with a frog of all things?" Grom objected, sliding as far as she could from the older, French-built destroyer.

"It can't be a coincidence."

"Huh?" Everyone turned to Gryf, who closed her eyes in disbelief.

"Pardon me for omitting you, Wicher, but Grom, Błyskawica, and Burza are for the moment the three most advanced destroyers the Navy has. You said the Marshal was there?"

"He was, and he made Admiral Unrug sign off on something."

"Were you able to hear anything else?"

"No…that's the weird thing, they kept talking in hushed whispers. I would have gotten closer, but I could have sworn that one point Admiral Unrug was looking right at me."

"It's about to happen," the minelayer sighed. "I can feel it."

* * *

"I found it."

It was amazing how such a simple string of long-short beeps could convey so much information. Within minutes every gunboat, minelayer, destroyer, and submarine had assembled before Wilk's berth.

"This is bigger than I thought," she began shakily, clutching onto her metal hull for support. "They're splitting us up."

"They're _what_?" Burza roared, ignoring Wicher's frantic hushes.

"Marshal Rydz-Śmigły forced Admiral Unrug to sign the order…they're calling it the Peking Plan….you, Grom, and Błyskawica are going to take a visit to the U.K.."

"The U.K.?" Burza wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Why would I want to go-"

"What about the rest of us?" Gryf interrupted.

"Me and the other submarines are being sent on patrols about Polish waters. Everyone else will remain here, in Gdynia."

* * *

"Two sets of trousers, one good shirt, a few skirts…"

"Looks like someone's going on vacation," Wicher tittered playfully as she watched Burza's mountain of clothing grow higher and higher.

"You guessed wrong," the younger Wicher huffed. "This is survival gear. The English environment will be incredibly taxing, and I will need to bring all of _this_ ," she gestured wildly at the mountain, "to resist the harsh climate. What are you looking so sad about?" Burza demanded, catching sight of a stray tear rolling down her sister's cheeks.

"It's nothing," Wicher replied with a forced cheerfulness. Her smile cracked into a depressed frown as Burza reached out to hug her.

"Listen sis, I don't like being away from you either. But I'll be back, okay? This is probably just the Polish High Command overreacting again. Once Hitler realizes he can't take Gdynia without a fight, we'll be here before you know it."

* * *

"The more and more I think about it, the less Wilk's information makes sense."

"You think we won't be going to England after all?" Błyskawica glanced at Grom hesitantly.

"No, I think we are, but I don't think it's going to be temporarily." Grom tugged furiously at an unusually dirty finger nail. "Time is a tricky concept. A few years in England could be 'temporary' if seen through the lens of the entire century. And why would Admiral Unrug agree to split us up so soon after the Germans bullied Lithuania into submission? Unless…"

The two destroyers looked at each other in horror.

"They're about to attack, aren't they?"

* * *

 _August 27, 1939_

* * *

"So you're saying our surprise trip to England is actually cover-up for us to pre-emptively escape the Baltic Sea before it goes to hell?"

"If we come to blows with the Germans, hiding in British waters _would_ certainly increase our chances of survival."

"But then why not just send all of us there?"

"Someone's got to defend Gdynia when Hitler comes knocking on our door," Gryf pointed at the cityscape behind them. "The point isn't to hide behind Anglo-French skirts and let them do the heavy lifting; it's to ensure if that the Germans somehow overrun us in weeks, we still have _some_ force capable of resisting them in exile."

"But do you really think that's the Admiralty's plan?" Wilk countered. "It seems far too cloak-and-dagger to be Polish."

"I do," Gryf nodded.

* * *

 _August 28, 1939_

* * *

"Big sister go' 'way?" The little girl whimpered, clasping onto Grom's arms with both hands.

"Soon," Grom pursed her lips sadly, "but I'll be back," she added assuringly, giving her head a healthy headpat.

"Bring present?" she puffed her cheeks hopefully.

"I will." Grom looked away as she heard footsteps approaching. It was her commander, Włodzimierz Hulewicz, who gave neither of them any notice. Instead, his attention was fixated on a small sealed envelope labeled "DO NOT OPEN WITHOUT ORDERS." Just looking at it caused her stomach to do somersaults.

"Huragan…listen…if anything happens while we're away, you promise to stay safe?"

"Hura' promise."

"And if you hear airplanes or anything, don't chase after them unless they're ours."

"Hura' stay safe," the girl put a finger to her lips and did a little hiding motion.

"I'm going to go now, Goodby-"

No, she couldn't bring herself to say those words. Grom wasn't sure if this was going to be the last time she would ever lay eyes on her newest sister.

"Since I'm going now but I'll be back, I'm going to say hello, m'kay?"

"Hullo!"

* * *

It seemed like an eternity before either of them spoke.

"So, it seems like this is it then?" Wicher jerked her head at the envelope Burza had furtively stolen from her captain's desk. "You'll be leaving in a few days?"

"I…guess?" the Franco-Polish destroyer returned the envelope and gave a violent shrug. "I'm not about to get my commander in trouble, so I'll find out what's going on the same time he does."

"To think we would have to part ways like this…"

"Uh, Wicher? What are you talking about? Why are you looking at me like tha-" Any further words were cut off as Wicher buried her face in Burza's chest and let out an uncontrolled sob.

"I don't want you to go…I don't want you to leave me here…why do you have to go? Why can't we both die here, as sisters, side by side? I don't want to die alone."

"Sis'…I won't be gone forever…I'll be back-"

"NO! Stop saying that. You and the other two have been saying that to reassure us, but _I_ know. The trip to the U.K. isn't a temporary respite, it's an escape to freedom. There is no plan to save those of us who remain behind….once the war starts, we are finished."

Burza's eyes went white as the reality of Wicher's words sunk in. This would likely be the last time she would see her sister. There was no guarantee that she would survive a prolonged conflict, let alone do so in one piece. That's when she reached down in her travel trunk and produced a long, rolled-up piece of paper.

"Hey…do you remember when we had both just been launched and thought it was a genius idea to drink an entire tankard of absinthe in celebration?"

"How could I forget? We were so drunk that when we tried painting self-portraits, they looked like a Monet painting."

 _Riiiiiipp._

Burza neatly tore the drawing in two where their hands met in a childish heart shape.

"Here, take my self-portrait, and I'll take yours. That way we'll have something to remember each other by, and if by chance we ever see each other again we can just glue it back together. Who knows, maybe we should keep doing it and title it 'Self-Portrait of Two Stupid, Paranoid, French Destroyers."

The peal of Wicher's genuine laughter would be the sweetest sound she would remember for the rest of her life.

* * *

 _August 29, 1939_

* * *

It was a lot harder preparing to leave than any of them had remembered. The air was thick with rumors, and at moment everyone half-expected to see German planes barreling from the sky and dropping their payloads onto the fleet.

Everyone tried acting like it was a simple sortie out into open sea, but in their hearts they knew that this was the Navy's boldest move yet. There was a small crowd of curious onlookers and unseen spirits amassing where the three destroyers were docked.

In order to maintain the strictest sense of secrecy, none of the three envelopes had been opened. The only two men who likely had some inkling at all of what was to come were Admiral Unrug and Marshal Rydz-Śmigły, neither of whom were in Gdynia.

At last, a cryptic signal flag waved in the distance.

"PEKING! PEKING! PEKING!"

As if on cue, the three destroyer commanders ripped open the envelopes. Grom peered anxiously at the letter from behind Hulewicz's elbows.

 _The assured survival of GROM, B_ _ŁYSKAWICA, and BURZA depend upon your compliance with these orders._

 _In the event of war with the German Reich or the Soviet Union,_ _the Polish Navy will face certain destruction. The objective of this operation is to send the aforementioned destroyers to British ports-of-call, where they can assist and be assisted by the Royal Navy. The Royal Navy is aware of this operation and will receive you upon arrival._

 _It cannot be stressed enough the importance of secrecy in fulfilling this mission. A pre-emptive war waged by Germany will make any escape into the North Sea impossible. Under no circumstances are you to make contact with the Kriegsmarine._

 _Signed,_

 _Counter Admiral Józef Michał Hubert Unrug_

"So we really _are_ escaping," Błyskawica whispered.

Grom could only nod in agreement as she desperately took one last glance the mass of spirits behind her. There was Huragan, who eagerly hopped onto Wicher's back to wave her eldest sister one final greeting. Even Gryf put aside her usual grumbling to give the Anglo-Polish destroyer a hearty wave.

She didn't want to go.

Why were humans such cruel, cruel beings, to separate herself from her lifelong friends for the sake of war?

But Grom couldn't stay. At that very moment her boilers were being fired up, headcounts taken, and launches safely stowed away midships. A flag officer hoisted a signal indicating that destroyer was all set.

"EXECUTE ORDER PEKING," a deep voice repeated once more.

Błyskawica was the first to steam out of the bay, with Grom following close behind. Within the hour Gdynia, Gryf, and Huragan would fade into black specks the horizon.

* * *

Burza was the last to leave Gdynia.

She didn't know it was so hard this time, leaving home. Just as the destroyer thought she had made peace with the fact she and Wicher would be parted for a little while, the anxiety came rushing back.

Wilf. Gryf. Wicher. This was an entire group of friends, who had fond memories of France and enjoyed laughing at Grom's expense, that she was leaving behind.

But the most painful moment for her was when she heard Wicher's frantic voice over the radio as they steamed away.

"Burza…wait up…don't leave me here...help me-"

And then Wicher stopped herself.

"No…Burza…whatever happens, don't look back. Even if you hear that the Germans invade tonight, or tomorrow, don't think about me. Even if somehow I happen to be within communication distance of you and you hear me dying, don't turn around. Live. I wish I had told you this before we parted, but you're the best sister I could ever ask for. And you always will be."

Burza didn't get any sleep that night.

* * *

 _August 30, 1939, 00:00_

* * *

"Are we clear now?" Grom yawned.

"I think we passed the Baltic a little while ago," Burza replied hesitantly. "We should be in Danish waters now."

"So we went through German waters during the cover of darkness. Admiral Unrug sure planned this out to the last minute, it seems. Quite impeccable sense of timing, if I say so myself."

Burza merely nodded, a subtlety that didn't escape her attention.

"You're still worried about Wicher, aren't you?"

"She told me not to, but I just can't help but think…what if they're already got her? What if she's already sunk?"

"If there's war, I'm sure the entire Luftwaffe would have been after us by now, don't you think?"

The Franco-Polish destroyer was about to reply when she caught sight of a strange, frantic flickering of lights in the distance. A few minutes later the flickering repeated itself once more.

"The hell you looking at?" Błyskawica grunted, straining her eyes in an attempt to see through the early morning darkness.

"Those lights in the distance, do you see them? Looks like a light show of some sort."

She took one look at the strange display before bursting into a panicked sweat.

"Fucking hell Grom, _that's a signal lamp, and it's signaling right at us!_ "

Grom swore as the pattern grew clearer, a sign that the light source was fast approaching. By now the three destroyers could make out a mast and the outline of a turret off their starboard side.

[Who are you?] The stranger signaled once more.

[ _Who_ _are you_?]

"Błyskawica!" Grom hissed.

"Sorry…old habits…at least she has the courtesy to answer, whoever she is."

[Königsberg.] The vessel immediately replied.

[As in _KMS_ Königsberg?]

"Grom!" Błyskawica hissed.

"Well, we have to be sure…" she laughed nervously.

[Light Cruiser Königsberg of the Kriegsmarine, at your service. And you are?]

[Friends.]

[….Your name, please?]

[Lightning Flash!]

"Brilliant! Brilliant!" Grom offered her sister an aerial high-five. There was no way the foul German could see through their clever alias.

[…so ORP Błyskawica?]

 _Shit._

[…maybe?]

[…why are you making this difficult? If I didn't know any better, I would think that our countries were at war and that you were trying to slink away unnoticed.]

"So we aren't?" Błyskawica laughed nervously. By now the spirits had caused such a commotion that Polish crewmembers were moving about, watching with the German cruiser approach with great alarm.

[…we were just simply passing by. Taking a cruise around the Danish Straits.]

[Ah. My apologies then. Safe travels to you and your crew.]

" _Safe_ _travels_?"

"Yeah, we're going to need that one," Grom sighed in relief, mopping up her sweat.

"Looks like she's going to pass us by before heading off," Burza warned as Königsberg loomed nearer and nearer. There were frantic shouts as some German sailors stood to attention, which some Polish marines hastily replied. Königsberg herself materialized beside the signal lamp she had been questioning them with, taking off her peaked cap and giving them a crisp salute in greeting. Then the cruiser slipped away into the darkness, and the Polish trio was alone once more.

"That was close," Błyskawica whispered.

"Too close," Grom frowned.

It was only Kattegat and Skagerrak left, and then freedom.

* * *

 _August 31, 1939_

* * *

"Psst! Grom!"

"Yeah?"

"Why are we whispering?"

"Burza finally fell asleep. I don't think she's slept since the night before Operation Peking began."

"Oh. I was wondering if we should wake her up. Y'know, to see England and whatnot."

"Are we going to arrive tonight, or tomorrow evening?"

"Dunno. Hey, is Burza snoring?"

"No, that's definitely not the sound of her engines…it sounds like it's coming from above."

Sure enough, a small group of Arado seaplanes were shadowing them, staying just out of reach of effective anti-air attacks.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, not this shit again."

"Should we wake up Burza?"

"You kidding right? She's been worried sick about Gdynia this entire trip, and now you want to wake her up to the sight of German airplanes overhead?"

"Right. These ones don't bite right?"

"I'd be alarmed if airplanes _could_ bite, Grom. Though…would you call me crazy if I wish it was just Königsberg nearly scaring us to death again? She was a friendly sort of scary, unlike these things. I can't shake them!"

"You're right, dammit…we'll have to change course…."

* * *

" _Burza…"_

" _Burza!"_

 _She could see her sister's face so clearly, the soft warm outlines of her cheekbones, the warm, never-angry expression in her eyes._

" _Wicher," she whispered._

 _Had her last few days been a lie? Was Operation Peking just a dream? Was she about to wake up from the most terrifying moment in her life, just to find everyone safe and sound?_

 _Instinctively she reached out to Wicher's face…and was immediately horrified as it faded into nothingness._

" _I'm sorry Burza. I really am…I tried to hold out, but I simply can't. But don't turn around for me, sister. Live…"_

"Live…" Burza repeated softly.

Ah, dammit, why was she tearing up now! What would Grom and Błyskawica think if they saw her?

She reached out for her trunk and carefully popped the lid. Atop a mess of mismatched clothing, Wicher's drunken self-portrait gazed intently at her.

 _Just this once it's okay to be a kid_ , Burza decided, and snuggled with the painting.

There was a clinking of cups behind her.

"Hey Burza," Grom tapped her with her mug, "do you want something?"

"I'm fine."

"I know you're worried sick about your sister, but do you want to look at the twilight with me and Błys?"

"Huh? Twilight? Wait a second, what are you two doing on _my_ deck?"

Błyskawica resisted the urge mocking noises in reply. Burza was clearly still anxiety-ridden, after all.

"The Germans are starting to obsess over our little adventure, so we're hugging the Norwegian coastline until nightfall. I'd say in about another hour the Division Commander will make us head out to England again. In the meantime…do you want to watch the sun set?"

"It is a pretty night tonight," Burza agreed haltingly. "It's a pity I didn't get to see the Polish sunset yesterday."

"Honestly," Błyskawica dropped her voice to a low whisper. "None of us did. We're just as nervous as you are, Burza, but we hide it better."

"You…are?"

"Grom is as worried sick about Huragan as you are with Wicher. I probably should be as well, but for me…honestly I'm more concerned about you two. We're the only Polish unit out of position, and to make matters worse we're the best destroyers in the navy. As much as I'm afraid for our friends in Gdynia, I'm afraid for all of Poland as well. They need us, Burza, yet they're trying to take us out of harm's way. If the Germans declare war tomorrow, I want to be able to protect them all. But we can't help anyone if we're dead."

"You're right."

Błyskawica cracked a small smile as she saw a sliver of light return to Burza's eyes.

"So, what's next, then? Where do we go from here?"

"Well, first," she jerked her head westward as the three destroyers turned in unison. "We have to get out of here."

* * *

 _September 1, 1939, Early Hours_

* * *

"All ahead full!" a voice crackled through the speaking tubes.

"All ahead full!" a voice repeated in confirmation.

As the destroyers picked up steam, Burza watched as Skagerrak slowly slip behind them. The waves grew rougher, and the corridor on either side of them gave way to open sea. Some trawler tried questioning them as they came roaring past, but the trio paid her little heed. They were too close to their mission to risk a setback now.

Soon they were in the North Sea, though the violent waves meant that revelation surprised no one.

"I see that England is as welcoming as always," Burza retorted drily as another Atlantic torrent broke over her bow.

"Nah, the North Sea's always like this," Grom snorted. "It'll be better close to England though."

"How much further is that?"

"We're almost there, just a few more hours!"

It was almost daybreak when they heard distinctly Scottish voices on the radio.

"You the Poles we be lookin' for?" a low voice tooted.

"Course they are! That slawlawspeak was tyin' m'head up knoots!"

"May I have the honor of knowing who you two are?" Błyskawica asked cautiously in English.

"Wallace and Wanderer," the first one offered. "We be W-class destroyers from Glasgow."

"It's over!" Grom laughed in relief as her human operators confirmed the identity of the ships hailing them. "We've been found by the Royal Navy."

"Ach, so you're…Blylylyl, Grom, and Burza, y'say? The Home Fleet's been waiting for ye. We'll be glad ta meet up with ye and take you to Leith. Just get a little closer in the morning so we can chat."

* * *

They would all remember where they stood when the report came at 9:25 am.

The bridge officers, who had been the first to receive the news, shakily assembled the rest of the sailors.

"At daybreak this morning, the German army stormed the Polish corridor! Five armies from all across Germany are marching on Poland now. Marshal Rydz-Śmigły has ordered the armed forces to mobilize, and the Navy is preparing for a landing by sea! We are now the only Polish unit free from German encirclement."

An uneasy murmuring quickly descended throughout the ranks.

"There's more," Division Commander Roman Stankiewicz continued reluctantly. "Gdynia and several other Polish cities are being bombed as we speak."

The murmuring quickly transformed into chaos. Several sailors began anxiously asking their officers whether they knew their hometowns were under attack.

Stankiewicz looked away as Włodzimierz Kodrębski pulled him aside nervously.

"We'll have to meet up with those British destroyers quickly," Błyskawica's commander whispered hurriedly. "Intel reports that the Kriegsmarine withdrew a naval squadron to pursue us with all due haste."

"How long ago?" Stankiewicz demanded.

"The morning after we encountered KMS _Königsberg_."

"That's two whole days! They could be right behind us as we speak."

"I'm afraid that's the least of our concerns, Commander," he swallowed. "ORP _Burza_ and ORP _Grom_ are having engine difficulties."

" _Now_?"

"Now. The engineers don't know what's wrong either; they just seem dead in the water."

Without a word, Błyskawica quietly faded away. She knew what had to be done.

* * *

Błyskawica found the two destroyers in Burza's little hidey-hole in her conning tower. She and Grom were hugging each other for dear life, although their faces clearly told Błyskawica that their minds were elsewhere.

"They might have made it out. We don't know for certain."

"But not Huragan…" Grom trembled, furiously choking back tears. "Hura's still on the docks. She can't run. She was so young…and small…AND THE FUCKING LUFTWAFFE HAD TO SNUFF HER LIFE OUT!" There was a panicked rumble outside as the Grom's metal hull began vibrating dangerously.

"Sister, sister! Please, calm down!" Błyskawica shook her sister furiously. "Wicher and Gryf have modernized aircraft suites. They could have been able to fend them-"

"No."

"No…They're trapped…and afraid…" Burza whispered. "I can feel it…Wicher's all alone…and I left her to die," her cold, unfeeling eyes fell upon Błyskawica.

"Why are we alive? Why are we here, hundreds of miles away from home when our friends are begging for help? We should be home."

"Burza…"

"We should be home!"

"Burza, not you too, please, remember what we said last-"

"I WANT TO GO HOME!"

Błyskawica began panicking as Burza lurched violently, as if she was turning about to head back to the Baltic.

"No, Burza…please…"

"FUCK OFF! Get the hell away from me! I'm not the oh-so-noble, brave, Błyskawica who gives a damn about her friends dying if it's for the 'greater good!' I'm not some cocky English destroyer who head is so stuck up her ass that she thinks that English engineering is the finest in the world! I left my sister behind, and I'm going back!"

"AN ENTIRE SQUADRON IS CHASING AFTER US! IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT, BURZA, TO BECOME A SUICIDAL MANIAC?"

"If Wicher is facing insurmountable odds, then so must I."

"Grom, tell her what a stupid idea this is."

"Where is the German squadron?" Grom demanded, a dark glint in her eyes. "Tell me, where? Tell me, sister, I want to fight them," she repeated, loading her guns with a flex of an arm. "I want to kill them all, every last one of them. For Huragan. Błyskawica, please. Tell me!

"Grom…" Błyskawica shook her head in disbelief. "You've gone mad. Don't make me do this."

"TELL ME!"

"SHUT UP, ALL THREE OF YOU!" a new voice roared in their heads. "You do any more talking , and there won't be anything left for the Germans or us to recover!"

"…Gryf…" Burza croaked, slapping her cheeks into wakefulness. "Is that you?"

"Yes, and stop crying, you sound like an Italian being shot in a bar."

"But…how?"

"Wicher figured out how to communicate with Lecomte's channels in Paris and from there to you, but listen, we don't have much time. Any moment now they'll notice strange messages being transmitted from ORP _Gryf_ to ORP _Burza_ and shut this whole thing down."

"Is Huragan still alive?" Grom demanded without skipping a beat.

"Big sis?" a little voice chirped hopefully.

"Huragan!" No words could describe the relief seeping into her voice.

"Hura' scared for big sis. Stay safe for Hura', 'kay?"

"I will. But, er, what about the rest of you?"

"I got bit in the ass by 33 dive bombers a few hours ago," Gryf griped, "but we're all okay. Me and Wicher tried smuggling bits of Huragan aboard both of us, so even if Germans destroy her she'll still here with us. What about you guys? Don't tell me you're still in the Danish straits."

"We're almost in the U.K..."

"Thank Admiral Unrug. You know they sent the Liepzig sisters and Köln after you, right?"

" _What_?"

"Yeah, you know, the light cruisers that shit out fire like every ten seconds, three-by-three turrets? Can't miss em."

There was an awkward crackling noise as if something was popping in and out.

"Dammit, Lecomte's closing in on this. Burza, I'm going to let Wicher talk to you one last time. Wicher, you want to talk over?"

"Sure. Sis', are you there?"

"…Wicher…?"

"I heard everything, you know," she said in her signature soft voice. No anger, no surprise, no disappointment…just calm. "Do you remember what I told you before you left Poland?"

"Yes," Burza looked down in shame. "I'm sorry for everything I said."

"Don't be. You are right, to extent. I _am_ afraid. We _are_ alone. But I want you to remember something. We won't give up. We won't die that easily. All of us here will fight to the end, to the last man, to the last shell. And every time I think back to how we were woken up by German bombers this morning, I can't help but be glad that you aren't here. Do not worry about me Burza," her voice began crackling and fading, "I am sure that we will meet again."

* * *

 _September 4, 1939_

* * *

"Bloody hell, so this is it then? It's happening?"

"The failure of Germany to withdraw from Poland means that our nation and France will honor the alliance," Rodney concluded as she placed down her breakfast, "and thus a world war shall begin anew."

"How are the girls taking it?" Hood queried anxiously.

"The destroyers?" Royal Oak scoffed. "Wallace and Wanderer are all acting like nothing's amiss. Same with the others. Between us three, I reckon that the Germans would surrender in a day if we let them loose into the Baltic."

"I meant the Poles."

"Oh." The Revenge-class battleship covered her mouth apologetically. "No. I haven't heard a sound from them all morning. Do they know what happened in-?"

"We both told Błyskawica this morning, but didn't have the courage to stay afterwards."

"Good heavens…are we sure, about the reports that is? Surely _some_ ship had to survive the assault."

"A submarine, maybe, but both Polish and German intel reports indicate that Wicher and Gryf were lost to enemy action. As were their gunboats and any other auxiliary surface vessel still afloat after September 1."

"I can't…I can't imagine that…" Royal Oak stammered shakily. "That would be like if me and Hood died, leaving you all by yourself, Rodney."

"I pray that the fortunes of war never allow the Germans to have such tidings," Rodney replied drily. "May their battleships be condemned to an eternity of eating nothing but rotten potatoes."

 _Knock. Knock._

"Come in!"

The three battleships were greeted by two pale but steady destroyers.

"ORP Błyskawica and ORP Grom," they saluted.

"No need," Royal Oak dismissed their formalities with a wave of her hand. "Take a cup of tea if that's to your liking. After all you've been through, that's the least we could do."

"Th-thanks," Grom replied.

"How is Burza taking it?" Hood asked.

"She refuses to eat or drink anything, and she also tried steaming back to Poland," Błyskawica shivered. "Wallace and Wanderer stopped her again though before she could head out to sea. I don't think Burza will ever be the same."

"Were she and Wicher close?" Royal Oak offered helpfully.

"As close I am with both of my sisters," Grom returned, before looking down sadly. "Or was."

"Oh."

"Listen, I don't mean to be impolite or anything, but can I ask you three a question?"

"Go ahead."

"When is the next patrol?"

Hood stared at them incredulously. " _What?_ "

"I said, when is-"

"No, no, no, forgive me. I understand perfectly what you meant, it's just…" she wrung her hands for emphasis. "Are you sure that you guys can stomach it so soon after such news?"

"The purpose of Operation Peking was to assure the survival of an operational Polish destroyer division in the case Poland's navy was destroyed," Błyskawica stated. "As the loss of Gryf and Wicher means that we are likely the only ships left in the entire Polish fleet, it is our duty in exile to fight and protect the Polish people and its allies. And we will answer that duty," she said quietly, "even if those nearest to our hearts perish, and if those around us give up."

"I'll contact the Destroyer Flotillas immediately," Hood replied. "Are you in, Grom?"

"For what they have done to Huragan and my friends at home, I shall fight the Germans anytime, anywhere. Even if I sink doing so."

"Count me in as well."

Everyone turned to the lifeless, gaunt girl propping herself up along the door frame.

"Wicher told me to live. If I truly cared for her, I will honor her request, even if I loathe being here in her stead. As a destroyer of the Polish Navy, I shall not give up so easily."

"You do yourself and your sailors great credit," Rodney nodded in approval. "May you be amongst the Royal Navy's finest allies in its time of need."

* * *

 **A/N:**

This is roughly based on Operation Peking, a move the UK convinced Poland to execute mere days before the latter was unexpectedly invaded on 9/1/1939. As you can imagine, Polish High Command was reluctant to divert its few naval resources away for preservation when they were critical to its defensive war plans. I tried to capture the emotions the three destroyers (if they were sentient) would undoubtedly have going through the ordeal. Having left her sister behind, **Burza** would have (and would continue to suffer) from a severe case of survivor's guilt. As the lead ship of the Grom-class, **Grom** would feel responsibility for Huragan, and would ultimately sink fighting Germans in 1940. As the middle destroyer, **Błyskawica** would probably feel a bit more detached from the situation than her counterparts, and as her service record suggests she would likely be extremely committed to her duty (perhaps overly so, as Burza lashes out).

The Romanian Bridgehead: From what I read, it appears that the concept of a defensive line near Romania was banked on heavily in Polish war simulations against Germany. The idea was that Polish forces, supplied by the navy and Romanian railroads, would withstand the initial assault long enough for Anglo-French forces to arrive. As both the USSR and Germany blitzed through Poland, this unfortunately was not feasible.

"Lecomte": Wikipedia is pretty sketchy on how accurate this name for Franco-Polish intel is (I haven't seen this nickname come up elsewhere), but as Polish history is not my specialty I'll take it.

French and English Rivalries: Seeing as Grom and her sister were the only British-built destroyers in the Polish fleet (all the other ships mentioned were constructed in France save Huragan, who was a native construction), I thought that they would likely make swipes at each other's birth countries in their jokes.

Sealed Envelopes: I can't find too much information confirming this (the Wikipedia article is a story in itself), but it appears that so much secrecy was stressed on this plan that the captains were not informed of their orders until the very last moment. As I was unable to find any surviving information about the contents of said orders within the envelopes, I tried mimicking how it would have sounded.

Absinthe: "The Green Fairy." French artists used to take it in order to see crazy stuff to paint about.

Wicher's Inconsistencies: When Wicher begs Burza to come back, it's her survival instincts kicking in. When she tells Burza that's everything is okay and to live, that's what she _genuinely_ wants (but does not feel) to say.

Huragan: _Hurricane_ was intended as the 3rd member of the Grom-class, except that she would be constructed in Polish shipyards rather than English ones (unlike her older sisters). Huragan was incomplete when the Germans invaded Poland on September 1, and was presumably destroyed.

The Königsberg Encounter: Sources I found were vague on how intimate Königsberg actually was with interacting with the destroyer trio, so I decided to make a comedic twist on the situation. Note that historically a destroyer was also accompanying her.

9:25, September 1: Wikipedia's pretty sketchy on how accurate this time is, but I'll trust it.

Wallace and Wanderer: These were the first British destroyers the Polish trio encountered during the Operation.

Firing Rate of Köln and the Liepzig Sisters: Navweaps indicates that it's up to 8-12 rounds per minute (Königsberg had a maximum of 8, the Liepzig sisters 12 due to their newer mounts), but saying 7.5s seems too precise for a Polish minelayer to know.

"33 Divebombers to the Ass": 33 German Dive bombers attacked _Gryf_ on September 1, though historically they all missed.

September 4: While this is not the date Gryf or Wicher actually sank (they sank on September 3) or when the UK entered WW2, I thought it reasonable to assume that the UK would not be aware of the Polish Navy's losses without at least a day's delay.

Royal Oak's "What if me and Hood die" comment: Yes, sorry, but I like irony (Royal Oak was sunk in 1939, and Hood in 1941).


	2. Loss, Part 1

**AN:** While I'm not planning to do a day-by-day analysis of the Polish Navy and their allies in World War II, September and October 1939 were kind of big months for Poland and I wanted to imagine the Polish Trio's reaction to them even if in passing. Because of that, I'm splitting the original chapter into two parts.

* * *

 _September 7, 1939_

* * *

"Beware of Scapa Flow. **Here there be dragons**!"

It took all of her strength to avoid rupturing her ballast tanks from laughter. Life at sea as a U-boat was thrilling to be sure, but there were weeks on end where it could all seem so…boring. Therefore, when U-47 shared her "map" of the North Sea, she couldn't help but feel like a little girl in a candy shop: her sister had a reputation for taking creative liberties with the do's and do not's of the high seas, and U-47 had certainly delivered. Viking longboats adorned a hastily-drawn outline of Norway, and a frowning woman guarded the thin gap between France and England, or "Hood's neighborhood" per the medieval scrawl. As for Scapa Flow, it needed not saying that the cove that had caused her predecessors so much grief in the Great War was packed with ravenous-looking warships eager to take a bite out of the German wolfpacks. The fool who dared infiltrate that British haven would be in dire need of divine protection.

In all fairness, it was the dragons needing protection, not them. As members of the Kriegsmarine, she and her many sisters understood very well that the Royal Navy required sustenance to survive, and it was their goal to watch the light fade from the Royal Navy's eyes as it was slowly starved into submission. Rumors had it that U-47 had already bagged a mixed goods freighter earlier that day, and it was now her job to one-up that count.

"Ship approaching, estimated 20 knots."

With the help of her crew, she nimbly turned about and began stealthily approaching her target from the safety of the deep blue depths. From this distance it was too difficult to gauge what sort of vessel was about to be her unlucky catch, though it didn't really matter. Assuming it was a hostile ship, a kill was a kill.

"Ship approaching, estimated 26 knots, accelerating."

Huh, so a cruise liner then? She wasn't familiar with oilers or freighters going so fast, but it was a rare sight to spot a passenger ship with such a thin beam. Regardless, attacking would be risky business. If she didn't want a national scandal on her hands, the U-Boat would have to verify that it was undeniably a troop ship masquerading as a neutral vessel.

But what kind of passenger line was sailing this far North? They were nearing South Ulst Island for crying out loud!

Her hands grew damp with anticipation.

"Ship approaching…estimated 34 knots…"

Definitely not a passenger ship, or at least any liner that she'd heard of. In that case it'd certainly be a warship, and a British one at that.

Her target grew more unappetizing by the second.

"Ship approaching…estimated 39 knots…"

What.

 _What._

 _39 Knots?_ Was this some sort of English devilry?

"What in heaven's name goes that fast?!" the German roared out, frantically raising a periscope to the surface.

And promptly lost engine control at the sight before her.

There before the U-boat's very eyes was a destroyer bearing down upon the hapless submarine like a maniac, an enthusiastic bravado plastered on her face and a red-white pennant eagerly flapping like a battle flag in her wake.

It was the Polish destroyer Błyskawica, one of the last, if not _the_ last, ships she wanted to see.

"Oho, what have we here? A German submarine? _Here_? Why, you deserve a medal for such bravery, dear foe! Come, let me give it to you!"

 _Yeah, nope._

With all her strength the U-Boat crash-dived as a muffled boom resounded where she had been mere minutes earlier. Another chorus of booms convinced her to dive even deeper. Better to live another day than run the gauntlet of depth charges.

"Remember," Błyskawica smiled mockingly as she radioed the fleeing German. "Here, there be dragons."

* * *

"Bullshit!" Some passing sailors ducked as a mug was hurled onto the quayside.

"I saw it with m'own eyes," Wanderer smiled apologetically. "One second I was astern of Blylyl here and the next she was hurrying off like a bull in a bull ring."

"Aha, so perhaps you imagined the whole encounter!" Grom wagged an accusatory finger. "In your haste to find an inglorious Hun committing dastardly crimes, you mistook a sleepy sea otter for a periscope!

"A _sea otter_?" Błyskawica snorted. "Do you really think that I'm blind?"

"In all fairness, you didn't _sink_ the U-boat," Burza amended quietly. "She slipped away, and will probably cause us trouble later."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the Polish trio. Even Wanderer stared into her rum ration awkwardly. They all knew too well that an allied merchantman laden with iron ore had been sunk earlier that morning, the perpetrator entirely unaccounted for. It was only a matter of when and where before it claimed her next victim.

"Well, in that case, that means the bet to be the first one to kill a German is still on the table!" Grom chirped cheerfully. "This time, I won't lose!"

Just then Hood steamed in, with Rodney and a cruiser they had never met before in tow.

"Ah, Błyskawica, Grom, Burza!" the battlecruiser tooted and gave a congratulatory wave. "I've heard that one of you had a run-in with a U-boat and gave her a what-for. Well done!"

"Congratulations on your accomplishments!" the cruiser chimed in meekly. The three Poles took an immediate liking to her. She was very tall, but looked gentle enough to be incapable of hurting a fly. Nevertheless, her twelve rifles and sleek modern profile served a stern reminder that the newcomer was more than capable of causing trouble.

Most appealing of all however was her voice. She had a very lyrical, rhythmic pace to her intonation, a refreshing change from the grumpy gargle of the Scottish destroyers or the crisp English that most of the battleships adopted. Burza especially took note of this.

"Where are you from?" the Wicher-class destroyer demanded. "I never knew English could be spoken so…saintlike."

The cruiser flushed red in embarrassment. "I'm from here…the United Kingdom…"

"Well you speak more clearly than any English vessel I know. Even Hood can be hard to understand sometimes, and she's as English as they come!"

Unnoticed, Hood ahemmed uncontrollably into her gloved hands.

"What's the matter?" Rodney snickered. "Bagpipe up the wrong boiler?"

"Shhhhh!" she shushed her friend hurriedly.

"…not really," the soft-spoken ship spirit protested, sweating under their heaps of praise. "It just seems that way. Guessed I picked that habit up somehow after leaving Belfast." That got the Anglo-Polish destroyers' attention.

"You're Irish!" Grom and Błyskawica shouted in unison.

"Aye…Northern Ireland…"

"Well, if you don't mind me saying this, my dear Irish-Cruiser," Burza lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I do wish Poland had ordered my colleagues from your birth-yard. If they did, I'm sure there would be world peace."

"Oi! You really think that the Germans would have left us be?!"

"I'm sure if you had even a hair of the softness that Mademoiselle Irish-Cruiser had, Königsberg would have written an anonymous treatise on why the Polish Navy was the greatest thing on this green earth and that Hitler should leave us Poles be! And he would have accepted it!"

"But then we'd be less scary!"

" _So_?"

"I told you that you'd get along with them just fine," Hood smiled reprovingly as the cruiser began giggling softly. "They're quite hard to dislike. Even our human crew agree that the Poles make top-rate seamen."

"But who is she?" Błyskawica demanded.

"This is HMS Belfast, a Town-class cruiser, the victor of Operation Hipper and one of the finest cruisers in the entire world if I say so myself," Rodney stated. "She arrived here a day before you three did, but with the tragedy unfolding in Poland there was no time to make a proper introduction. Would you and Wallace mind showing her around?"

"It would be an honor!"

"Gladly!"

"Of course!"

Hood, Wallace, and Rodney looked on fondly as Belfast disappeared into the distance flanked on all sides by a Polish ship spirit keeping constant vigilance.

"So… _Mademoiselle_ Belfast…"

"Belfast will do…I was just commissioned last month…"

"And you've already sunk German warships?!"

"No…it was a simulation against the Home Fleet…I was supposed to pretend to be a German Raider and escape into the Atlantic…"

"And you outsmarted them _all_?"

"Well…"

"Oh, tell us your ways, mighty cruiser!"

"But it was just the Pentland Firth! That's all I did!"

* * *

 _September 12th, 1939_

* * *

"On the evening of September 9, Polish forces launched a counterattack along the Bzura River and successfully forced the Reich's troops to retreat. Initial reports suggest that as many as several thousand Germans were taken prisoner…"

"This is it!" Grom did a happy jig and made a victory lap around the radio. "It's working! They're overextending! Our friends and sisters shall soon be avenged with Teutonic blood!"

"But will it be enough?" Burza bit her lips worriedly. "For days we've been forced back. The Germans certainly have air superiority as the Marshal doesn't begin dictating the battlefield, only southeastern Poland will remain free."

"Have confidence, my good French destroyer!" Błyskawica flexed her arms in encouragement. "Remember what Wicher said? We'll fight until they hack the flesh off our bones! We'll fight them here, there, anywhere! Even as ghosts, we shall never relent, ever!"

"Do you really believe so?"

"Huh?"

"You're doing it again, Błys," Grom made an eagle-like gesture.

"I am? Oh. Right." The younger Grom quickly untangled her limbs from their aquiline pose. "Once the Polish troops stabilize the front lines, all we'll have to do is hunker down and wait for the Anglo-French alliance to bring to justice. I have faith that the Polish Republic will prevail!"

* * *

 _September 17th, 1939_

* * *

"Oh my God."

If Hood could, she would have rewound the announcement and played it over and over again. But she knew that her ears and communication systems did not deceive her. In that moment, the battlecruiser could think of only one thing.

"Belfast, get the Polish trio, _now_."

"Right away."

"The Poles dinnae plan for that, did they?" Wallace swallowed hard. "The Reds invading them, I mean."

"From what I understand, no." Rodney rasped. "But who could? Two ideologies that were at each other's throats not even a decade ago in Spain, now working side-by-side?"

"THE DAMN TRAITORS!" A new voice thundered. Belfast saluted apologetically as Burza burst into the room, her face red with rage.

"After seeing the efforts of the French United Front and their aid to Spain…I had _hope_ , and the Soviets crushed it like an ant beneath their heel!"

"Allied aid is on the way. There's still a cha-"

"A chance. A CHANCE?" She laughed bitterly. "Our armies are conducting a fighting retreat on one side and being stabbed in the back by a country who claims to despise everything the Germans represent. And all I've done is sit around gallivanting about like a horse with no rider. Admiral Unrug confided in us that our crew and hulls could carry vital supplies home, sacrificing our lives if necessary, and what I have done to fulfill that expectation? Nothing. NOTHING! Not one convoy home, not one crate for the homeland…just me being utterly worthless!"

"Burza, wait. Wait!"

Before anyone could stop her, Burza burst into tears and darted out of the room.

"That was Burza, correct?" Hood sighed, drawing the brim of her sailor's cap over her face.

"It was," Belfast nodded.

"If the gloomy one is that enraged, then I fear what her more expressive comrades feel."

* * *

"It's done," Grom whispered quietly. "The action along the Bzura River is finished. 'A Crushing Victory,' the Germans will crow. With the Soviets to our east and Germans to the west, we have nowhere to stand. The Polish Republic is finished. Gone."

"Is this what the Romanovs felt when their empire crumpled beneath their feet?" Błyskawica chattered. "A gaping hole in their chest, as if their entire existence was meaningless?"

Neither her sister nor Burza uttered even the smallest syllable in reply, instead mournfully looking eastward out into sea."

"I wonder…was it really worth escaping, just for everything to end like this?"

"I say it was."

 _Clink. Clink. Clink._ A massive hand tauntingly waved a bunch of glass bottles before their eyes.

"C'mon, take it. I'd say you need it far more than I do."

Very reluctantly, the destroyers accepted her offer. Burza began coughing and gagging uncontrollably as its contents made contact with her throat.

"It's the hard stuff, not the cheap 'grog' the Navy likes to hand out. Sorry 'bout that, shoulda told you beforehand," Royal Oak rubbed her neck in embarrassment.

"T-thanks."

Have noticed that the Polish trio tolerated her presence she promptly sat beside them, kicking her legs over the quayside's ledge.

"What wasn't gone, can't be lost."

"Huh?"

"Ah, drats, can never remember mum about Dreadnought's old stories," the battleship smacked her forehead. "Blimey I'm getting old. How do it go again? Ah, yes, here we go. There was a Japanese Admiral…To Go? Go To? Bah, doesn't matter. He was a silent fellow, but also a very astute one. Legend goes that when he was a child his mother refused to let him eat some sweets as there were none in the house. Using that logic, he promptly ate every sweet to be found, and when he was scolded by his parents he claimed that because they were never any candies in the first place they couldn't have possibly disappeared!"

"That's _exactly_ what we needed to here, Royal Oak," Grom deadpanned and took another swig.

"Ah, nononono, that's not what I meant at all. You see, Poland _exists_. You know that, I know that, the Germans know that, and I'm certain even a desert tribesman could point to it on a map. Because it exists, so long as some element, some shard or soul, continues to fight on, Poland can't possibly disappear."

Błyskawica's eyes lit up in realization.

"The Polish Armies…they're awfully close to the Romanian border, aren't they, Błyskawica?" Royal Oak gazed intently into the Polish destroyer's brown eyes. "What's to stop them from crossing it? Defeat at home is not the end of your story, it is merely the beginning of a new chapter. So long as there is a ship standing, a soldier reporting for duty, the Polish Republic will continue to exist. We're all in this together now, remember that. The sun may disappear at night, but it is never gone. Eventually, no matter how long the wait, it will come back. It will come back."

A loud, ominous rumbling from both Royal Oak's stomach and a distant wharf promptly interrupted the battleship's speech.

"Ah, I knew that wasn't going to sit well with my boilers…well, I best be off and drain it out before the boys wonder what's wrong and shut off steam." She gave a violent yawn and began stumbling off. "It's too early for me to snooze…don't want to snooze…I'm an oak tree…hate being loggy…"

"Are you _drunk_?" Grom snorted.

Without even a second glance Royal Oak reached into her black coat and raised several empty bottles high over her head.

"Course I am. How'd you think I nicked the bottles for you three in the first place?"

"Well that's disappointing," Burza sighed at her retreating form.

"Wait! Royal Oak!" Błyskawica frantically chased after the battleship.

"Did you really mean what you said about Poland? That if it isn't gone, it can't disappear?"

"Of course I did, though to be frank I didn't state anything that you hadn't told me before," she raised an eyebrow. "I told you that not only to remind you why the Polish High Command sent you here in the first place, but also to give me hope that I could do the same, if heaven forbid the U.K. were to be conquered tomorrow."

 _September 20th, 1939, Early Hours_

 _Knock. Knock._

 _KnockKnockKnock._

 _KnockKnockKnockKnockKno-_

"MERDE, STOP BANGING ON MY BRIDGE DOO-oh, it's you," Burza glanced back at her uninvited guest and looked away apologetically. "Forgive me."

"On the contrary, forgive me," Belfast curtsied. "I should have been more patient and radioed you beforehand. I just thought I'd tell you first, before the others got wind of it."

"Good news, I presume?" the destroyer demanded, stiffening her back.

"Oh, I'd say so. Apparently the Royal Navy made contact with a friendly vessel a few days ago. There's a survivor from the Baltic."

"Headed here?"

"Aye."

* * *

"Steady now, don't strain the line! That's it, easy does it. Oi, navigator! Watch it! This isn't the Thames!"

"I'm doing my best in these waters, but she's not responsive in the slightest."

"I wouldn't expect any better," one of the tugboat's passengers, a middle-aged officer, sighed in resignation. "She's seen better days."

"You Poles did a good job by my reckoning," the navigator winked encouragingly. "It must have been very difficult getting out of there, with those wolf-packs and all. Dare I say that perhaps your feat shall never be repeated again?"

"I fear that that will be the case. We were the last ones to escape the Germans or neutral internment."

* * *

They saw her before they hear her. She was strolling the dock with an exaggerated limp, her oblivious human crew in tow warily scanning their new home. Aside from a visibly-strained leg (a battle scar from overtaxing her engine during the flight, the newcomer was none the worse for the wear), much to the three destroyers' relief.

"Wilk…is that you?"

"Ah, Burza…Grom…Błyskawica…it's been awhile…"

* * *

 _September 20th, 1939 Mid-day_

* * *

"Drink."

Wilk frowned and wrinkled her nose at the flask before her. "That's _rum_."

"This is not the time to be picky about your beverage," Błyskawica countered, "please Wilk, _drink_. You just made the journey from hell, and must be utterly exhausted by now."

"Besides," Belfast added, "all the destroyers chipped in to give you a cuppa of their stash. It's not easy getting the concentrated form, you know."

"I could care less whether it's the sweetest nectar of the earth," the Franco-Polish submarine returned, "It will intoxicate me either way. I'm not young anymore."

"Shall I dilute it into grog for you?"

"That won't be necessary. If you did, then I couldn't talk coherently."

"Talk? About what?"

"Something that is best shared in private," Wilk replied firmly. "I know what these three," she shifted her gaze towards the waiting destroyer trio, "have pulled me aside for. Do excuse me if I ask you and the other British shipgirls to give us some space."

"Of course. Shall I tell the battleships to divert the destroyers' gazes elsewhere? Your arrival caused quite the commotion."

"Please do."

Grom patiently waited until Belfast had clicked her heels and walked away before glaring wrathfully at the newcomer.

"The hell was that for, Wilk? First thing you do the moment you step foot on allied soil is to boss around Belfast, a polite and brilliant cruiser, of all things? And what could possibly be so important that you swore us to secrecy."

"The truth."

Instinctively, Grom, Burza, and Błyskawica flinched at her knowing gaze.

"How could you tell?"

"Your eyes." Wilk tossed the flask back to Błyskawica. "Pass it around, you three will need it."

"We won't."

"If you insist," she rolled her eyes. "Where should I start?"

"The moment the German troops unlawfully marched across the Polish border," Grom burst out eagerly. "I want to know in how many different ways those savages defiled the law so I can kill them _slowly_ , and _painfully_."

"Huh, so you know less than I thought. You really think the opening salvos were fired in Śląsk?" Wilk deadpanned. "No, they were fired at Gdynia."

Błyskawica tilted her head in confusion. "…Gdynia? But how on earth could the Germans get into shooting distance so soon? The only thing I can possibly think of is—"

"—Schleswig-Holstein," Grom growled, the sound growing more feral at Wilk's affirmative nod. "I can't believe that classy, elegant woman could be such a cunning bitch."

"The battleship wasn't there for a 'ceremonial visit' after all; it was a carefully orchestrated plan from the start to hack away at our exposed underbelly. Unfortunately, that was only the start of our troubles. Once Schleswig's guns began firing, the real fun began…"

* * *

"and so here I am, a little ruffled but otherwise none worse for the wear."

"All of that, and yet not a word of what we actually wanted to know," Błyskawica folded her arms. "We didn't want to know what happened; that much will be for the history books to decide. We wanted to know what happened to them?"

"To whom?"

"Don't play dumb Wilk, you know what we wanted; you said you saw it in our eyes yourself."

Wilk's mouth twitched in discomfort. "I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but Gryf really dropped the ball that morning. She was supposed to mine the Bay to prevent the German navy from sailing in it, but as soon as the bombers came screaming down, she panicked and jettisoned them all. Worst part is that because no one knows we exist, her acting captain took the fall."

She paused and looked away from Burza and Grom.

"Because of her failure, a group of destroyers led by…Maass , I believe her name was, was able to pin them along the shoreline. Gryf and Wicher fought hard, the former especially to redeem herself for her shortcomings, but it wasn't enough. At the end of the day the German bombers returned, and that was that. As the rest of Huragan's remains are rotting away in Gdynia, I believe the youngest Grom's spirit went down with those that day. I pray that the sea was merciful and that they did not suffer long."

"What about the other submarines? What happened to them?"

"Once the Worek Plan was clearly untenable, the five of us parted ways. Sęp, Żbik, and Ryś should be in good hands; the Swedes seemed welcoming enough to keep them happy during their internment. As for the fate of Orzeł," Wilk grimaced deeply, "I fear for our Dutch comrade. One of the German minelayers laid a nasty hit on her with a depth charge, and I think it addled her captain's and her own brains to the point they decided to head to _Estonia_ to of all places for internment."

"Actually, there was a report about that the other day," Burza corrected. "Supposedly something happened, and the Estonians 'lost' her."

"Don't get your hopes up," the Franco-Polish submarine pre-emptively put up a hand in dismissal. "It took me almost a week to get through the German Navy unscathed, and that was without them actively looking for me. A wounded submarine escaping internment is too big of a target to avoid placing within German scopes. They won't let her get away without a huge fight, and if they don't, the sea will take her."

"What is the longest you think it could possibly take to get from the Baltic to Britain?" Błyskawica pressed.

"The longest? Hmmm…about two weeks, maybe three…but as I said young Grom, I wouldn't be optimistic about it."


End file.
